


Girlfriend Material

by Renaerys



Series: Shooketh, Not Stirred [2]
Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: F/M, Unbeta'd, blossom's bad time is for once not brick's fault imagine that, blossom's turn to be shook, buttercup is the A+ sister we all deserve, dumb teenagers are adorably dumb, feelings? in MY counterpart? it's more likely than you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23355379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renaerys/pseuds/Renaerys
Summary: Blossom is having a bad day. Brick accidentally makes her feel better.
Relationships: Brick/Blossom Utonium
Series: Shooketh, Not Stirred [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679800
Comments: 34
Kudos: 251





	Girlfriend Material

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Carriedreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carriedreamer/gifts).



> For the wonderful Carriedreamer, a fellow Reds die-hard and all-around A+ lady. She requested this as part of the February Fic Prompts challenge I'm (still) doing on Tumblr, but it turned out as kind of a part 2 to Shook. I hope you like it! ❤️

The four most dreaded words in the English language haunted Blossom after Julie’s party on Friday. They’d ruined the night, causing her to leave at nine p.m. alone, she didn’t want to drag Bubbles home early just because of her. They’d ruined her weekend plans—movie night with her sisters and Robin, studying at her favorite table at the public library, and Sunday family brunch. Through it all, Blossom was quiet and morose, and no one could get her to talk about why. 

_Why._

Those four stupid, little words. 

They were just words, sticks and stones, as she often would tell Bubbles whenever she got upset about teasing that went too far. 

_“You’re not girlfriend material.”_

Just four words.

* * *

Monday’s alarm went off at six a.m. sharp, and Blossom rose on autopilot to brush her teeth and get ready for school. She was halfway through applying a bit of mascara when she realized Bubbles wasn’t awake, and the Professor hadn’t called up to announce breakfast. And then she remembered. 

_Fall Break._

Blossom slumped over the sink, heavy and lethargic, the tube of mascara limp in her hand. How could she forget they had a whole week off from classes? Where was her head? 

Her reflection was washed out and pale in the morning gloom through the bathroom window, and she looked ridiculous with only one eye made up. Sighing, she hastily did the other one, put the mascara away, and went to get dressed. Bubbles slept like a rock on her stomach even through Blossom’s alarm. The girl could have slept through an earthquake, no doubt. Buttercup, however, shifted in her bed. 

“Going somewhere?” she called in a raspy, sleep-addled voice. 

Blossom smiled and smoothed her sister’s mussed bangs. Even though there was no longer any visible trace of the many injuries she had sustained fighting Butch on Friday, Buttercup would need a couple more days of rest to get back to her regular shape. The IV drip next to her bed held a bag of Chemical X, nearly drained as it fed her through the night little by little. 

“I forgot we’re on break,” Blossom said softly so as not to wake Bubbles. 

“You nerd.” 

Buttercup’s eyes drooped, but a smile tugged at her chapped lips. Blossom grabbed her half empty glass from the nightstand and refilled it in the bathroom sink. 

“Go back to sleep,” Blossom said, leaving the fresh glass of water on the nightstand. 

Buttercup turned over in bed and pulled the covers over her head. “Way ahead of you.”

That was that. Blossom floated to the window and quietly unhooked the latch. The Professor was moving around downstairs, but she didn’t much feel like talking to him right now. No doubt he would press her about Friday again, as he’d tried several times this weekend. The sun was rising steadily in the distance, casting the suburbs in a strange, dewy glow. 

“Hey,” Buttercup called. 

Blossom paused. 

“Whatever it is, it can’t hurt you. You’re a badass.”

Blossom bit her trembling lip. It was suddenly hard to breathe. She glanced back at Buttercup, but she was under the covers with her back to her. Even so, Blossom could not bring herself to speak. If she did, she might say too much. 

She slipped out of the window, pulled it closed behind her, and flew towards Townsville. 

* * *

Logically speaking, the sun rises in the east, days turn to weeks, and nothing lasts forever. Not thunderstorms, not youth, and not even pain. 

_“You’re not girlfriend material.”_

Blossom flew over Townsville waking up. It had rained last night, and the fog was thick over the bay as it battled the encroaching sun. She’d read a short story once about monsters in the mist. Gruesome, Lovecraftian horror, the type she never sought out but couldn’t refuse when it was a recommendation from her English teacher. There were no monsters in the mists shrouding Townsville of course, but she imagined them all the same, lurking voyeurs. 

One day, she wouldn’t even remember this morning, this feeling, the quiet so high up insulating her from the city sounds far below, tires screeching and jackhammers crunching and a thousand feet scuttling. Logically speaking, none of it mattered. 

But it still hurt. 

She wasn’t hungry, and she wasn’t cold. She was rarely cold, being a block of ice herself. The ice queen. An unoriginal and lazy moniker, but one that stuck among her peers. Smart, studious Blossom. Commander and the leader, it’s lonely at the top. Come down from your snowcapped throne now and again to walk among us poor plebeians, why don’t you? 

They weren’t all like that. The ones who mattered, _mattered_. Usually it didn’t bother her anyway. Sticks and stones, as they said, but they also said the pen is mightier than the sword. So which is it?

_“You’re not girlfriend material.”_

Logically speaking, people told themselves what they needed to hear to make themselves believe everything was fine. 

_“You’re not girlfriend material.”_

Just four paper-thin words.

_“You’re not girlfriend material.”_

_“You’re not girlfriend material.”_

_“You’re not girlfriend material.”_

Just four soul-crushing, little words.

* * *

Logically speaking, there were no monsters in the mist.

* * *

Brick wasn’t sure why he went. 

Up at the ass-crack of dawn because his alarm was set to repeat and he’d forgotten to turn it off for the Fall Break week, there was no going back to sleep now that the damage was done. Boomer flung his pillow at Brick’s bed to try to kill that screeching alarm, hit him in the face, and suffered a very hard, very warranted shove off the sofa. 

“Dude, what the fuuuuuuck?” Boomer whined from the floor in his boxers. 

“What the fuck do you mean, what the fuck?” Brick demanded. “Why are you sleeping on my couch?”

Boomer rubbed his tired eyes. “Butch’s snoring is so loud since he started that X drip and I can’t take it anymore!”

“Not my problem.” Brick went to his closet to pull on a fresh shirt. Fuck, it was cold this morning. He grabbed a hoodie from a hanger. 

“Briiiiiick,” Boomer whined. “I’m so tired.”

_Jesus fucking Christ._

“I’m going out. You better not be in here when I get back.”

Boomer was already crawling back onto his couch as he left his room to use the bathroom though. Whatever, it was too early to deal with Boomer’s crap. The two-bedroom apartment was claustrophobic this morning, like the walls were closing in on Brick, and he had the immediate urge to get out.

After he cleaned up, threw on his cap, and grabbed his keys, he took off into the early morning sky with no destination in mind as long as it wasn’t home. 

Fall Break. What was he supposed to do for an entire week? At least Butch was out of commission paying for the consequences of his hormonal jack-assery. Boomer had his friends to hang with, but he could get clingy when the brothers were confined to home without a schedule. And Brick was pretty sure he remembered Wes saying he was going to be out of town with his folks, so that left Boomer best friend-less for the foreseeable future. 

Hence, Brick wasn’t sure why he went to the ruined Shankaplex lot. Only, his head was full of all these useless thoughts and he wasn’t thinking straight and anyway it was hard to miss with that enormous fucking crane they’d brought in to help clear up the remains of the movie theater parking lot Butch and Blossom had completely demolished in their fight. 

She was already there. 

Her red hair cut through the grey of the broken asphalt and concrete like the sun through the rain-cold fog, but little about Blossom was warm. Brick frowned at the thought. He hadn’t seen her since Julie’s party, and even then only for a few minutes. She’d left really early.

She sat alone on the roof of the neighboring Cooper’s Market watching a team of construction workers in orange vests slowly working to clear the mess of tree trunks forcibly uprooted during the fight. They were scattered like dominoes on the asphalt. Brick’s eyes traveled from the back of Blossom’s head to a particularly deep crater where she’d stood towering over Butch, cowed like Brick had hardly ever seen him before, her eyes red with power as they lifted to meet his. 

He barely touched down when she sensed him and turned. Her eyes were red, like before, but not with power. 

Blossom hastily wiped her puffy eyes and the few tears wetting her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

Brick froze where he stood. Every instinct in him told him to flee, get the fuck out of there, her tears were not for him to see. Heart pounding in his ears, he clenched his suddenly clammy fists because he couldn’t think of anything else to do with them. “Nothing,” he said, like a total idiot. 

_Fuck, she’s fucking crying, what the fuck?_

“What are you doing here?” he asked, still in full-on idiot mode. 

Oh thank god, she’d turned away. He couldn’t see her crying anymore, but that little sniffle sent a chilling pang down his spine that was almost painful. He suppressed a growl at the sensation. 

“My alarm woke me up,” she said glumly. “I forgot to turn it off for the week.”

Brick stood petrified behind her, and it was a wonder that she couldn’t hear his heart hammering loud enough to give him a headache. Her banal words were a lifeline he clung to through the noise, and he swallowed hard. 

“Me too,” he said. “Habit.”

She nodded, as if the effort to respond was too great, and it was the respite he needed to calm the fuck down. He considered just leaving, but she’d acknowledged him, and leaving now would look like running. Brick didn’t run, especially not from her. 

Feet leaden, he shuffled to the edge of the roof and sank down a respectable arm’s length away from her. She said nothing, and their legs dangled over the edge overlooking the red and white striped awning. A big, neon sign advertising the grocery store buzzed and glowed yellow at the other end of the roof. Brick took off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and put it back on. Still, she said nothing, so he glanced at her. 

She was in jeans and a plain, white tank top, no frills and not even her usual pearl studs she always wore. Her hair was long and loose, draping her shoulders. Brick shivered just looking at her. Wasn’t she cold?

“How’s Butch?” she asked. 

It took Brick a moment to comprehend her question. She was looking right at him. Despite a little residual puffiness, her eyes were dry as a bone. 

“Sleeping it off,” Brick said. 

She nodded and went back to watching the construction workers. 

Brick racked his brain for something to say to her. “It’s actually kind of nice having him out of commission. Everything’s quieter.”

She hugged one knee to her chest and shrank in on herself, and he bit his tongue.

_Great._

He’d never had a problem talking to Blossom before. She was just Blossom, the uptight, annoying, micromanager he had to put up with in all his classes and at some social functions where their friend circles overlapped. She was just always there, always shrewd, always ready to shut him down if he so much as breathed at her funny. But this was like pulling teeth. What had changed?

Well, he knew exactly what had changed. Right there in that crater, in fact. He could picture it so clearly, could hear the pride in her voice as she exuded her total and absolute control like she’d been born to do it, and he’d never quite noticed before. How had he never noticed before? She was always right there. 

“Can I ask you something?” She tugged on her hair. Nervous habit.

_Why is she nervous?_

Brick dug his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Am I girlfriend material?”

He stared, waiting for her to crack, but Blossom never cracked.

Oh. 

She was serious. 

“Girlfriend material?” he repeated. It took every ounce of his incredible self-control to keep his voice neutral as he studied her impassive face. 

“Girlfriend material,” she confirmed. 

And damn, could she be cold when she wanted to be. Not even her tears could shake her now as she watched him, waiting on his answer like they were at war and it was go or get out of the way. 

“To a specific person?”

“Objectively speaking.”

“That’s not an objective question.”

“Sure it is.”

He frowned. “No, it’s not.”

“Western beauty standards would suggest otherwise.”

“So you want to know if you’re hot?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“But it’s the standard you’re basing your question on.”

She wrung her fingers in her hair. “I guess it’s related. But that’s entirely my point. There are certain traits or standards that inform what makes someone girlfriend material.” 

“Objectively speaking.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Brick considered her. She was nervous, fucking crying when he’d found her. It didn’t take a genius to deduce what had probably happened, even though he was, in fact, a genius and she was completely transparent right now, besides. 

_Is she messing with me?_

If she was, the crying was some Olympic level acting he’d never known her capable of. Blossom was many things, but she wasn’t duplicitous. 

How was this nervous, self-conscious girl the same one who had completely dominated Butch in a fight and loved every minute of being seen doing it?

Brick cleared his very dry throat and sat cross-legged to face her. “You mentioned traits and standards. What are the others?”

“Others?”

“That make someone girlfriend material. We already established that number one, she has to be hot.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say super model hot, but probably conventionally attractive.”

He waved her off. “Fine, whatever. Next?”

Blossom thought about that. “Well, I guess she should be nice.”

“Fine, but she can’t be boring.”

“Being nice doesn’t mean you’re boring.”

“It does if that’s all you are.”

“Of course that’s not all I am.”

Brick snorted. “No, you’re a hell of a lot more than that.”

Blossom narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. She should be smart.”

Blossom looked like she wanted to press him, but she refrained. “I agree. Intelligence is attractive.”

“But not too smart.”

“Excuse me?”

“And social, but not annoying about it. She should be able to keep up and complement you in any situation, but not overshadow or steal the spotlight.”

Blossom flushed in anger. “You realize how incredibly misogynistic that is, don’t you?”

Brick shrugged. “You said objectively speaking.”

“Oh, and you think all guys want is a party girl with above average looks and below average brains to stroke their egos?”

“No, I think your premise itself is flawed and I was proving my point. There’s no such thing as the objectively perfect girlfriend. That’s bullshit, and anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.” He watched her avert her gaze like a timid little bird. “Anyone who tries to meet such a bullshit standard is also an idiot.”

That got her attention, and she turned angry, pink eyes on him. “I’m the last person on the planet you should be calling an idiot.”

“I was speaking objectively,” he sneered.

Okay, that was petty, he could admit that to himself. But it was worth it to see the indignation on her pretty face. She got up in a blaze of pink. He was not far behind. 

“This was a mistake. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you of all people.” She began to walk away. 

He followed. “That makes two of us.”

The sun was up now, and more construction workers had shown up to operate the crane. Even up on the roof, it was beginning to get a little noisy for anyone with sensitive Super hearing. 

Nonetheless, they remained on the roof. 

* * *

_Conceited jerk,_ Blossom fumed on the other side of the roof with her arms crossed. _Why do I even bother?_

The conceited jerk didn’t know how to take a hint. 

“You’re not actually upset,” Brick said. 

Blossom glared back at him. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you get to dictate my feelings?”

“No, obviously. I meant why are you upset?”

Her lip trembled, but she bit down on it hard enough to hurt. No way was she going to cry in front of him again. Bad enough that he’d surprised her. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend like you care.”

Red sparks crackled on his skin. Blossom felt the sudden push of his choleric power like a punch to the gut, but she held her ground. It was over so fast that it left her breathless. 

He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. “This is so fucking stupid.”

For once, Blossom was inclined to agree with him.

“Who was it?” he asked. 

“I’m sorry?”

“At Julie’s party. Whoever told you that you’re not girlfriend material. Who was it?”

Blossom shook her head, stunned. “That’s not… You weren’t even there—”

“You ran outta there like the place was on fire right after I got there,” he interrupted her. “So who was it?”

Blossom continued to stare at him. Angry Brick she could handle. Smarmy, arrogant, crass Brick she was used to brushing aside, loudly challenging, or ignoring completely depending on the mood. But this—no, not _concerned_ , certainly not, more like curious Brick—was a subtle beast. 

“Does it matter?” she asked.

“Just tell me.”

Without Blossom realizing how or when, something had shifted between them. She had never been afraid of Brick, not even when they were kids and literally trying to destroy each other to no avail, and she wasn’t afraid now. But something in his countenance, in the casual way he rested his hands in his hoodie pockets, the power to crush mountains kept at bay with frightening ease, gave her pause. 

Logically speaking, there are no monsters in the mist. 

None that could hurt her, anyway. 

“Just…some girls,” Blossom said in a voice she hardly recognized. “Just some mean girls.”

Just four little words that hit like bullets. 

“Uh-huh,” he said.

Blossom could not begin to understand why, but standing there on the roof with him as the construction workers hammered away below, she was struck with an overwhelming sadness as bleak as the fog that settled in the streets. If he were anyone else, his pity would have shamed her. But Brick had never once pitied her. 

“I don’t get it,” she said. She was bullet proof. She’d faced monsters and demons and nightmares alike. Buttercup may be the toughest, and Bubbles may be light in the darkness, but Blossom was always in control, and control was power. It was everything. She could even face Brick’s chaotic brother on a Chemical X bender, and it felt _good_. She’d felt good. But this, these four damning words, hit her where she was weakest and most vulnerable, and she just couldn’t help it. 

For all her power and control, she was just a seventeen-year-old girl who wanted to fit in. 

She hugged herself close, wishing someone else would. “I don’t get it all.”

“I know.”

Blossom looked up. She’d forgotten Brick was even still there, but there he remained, stock still and staring off into the distance, his jaw set. 

“You…”

“I mean, I get it,” he snapped. He scowled, but not at her.

Bewildered, Blossom could only stare as Brick became even more uncomfortable than she was. And then, it hit her. 

“Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“I’m just saying.”

She stepped closer, unsure if she was hallucinating. “Why?”

He took off his cap and roughly carded his fingers through his short hair. “Because it’s fucking stupid. Not you, but you being so upset. _Not_ like that—” he preempted her protest that never came, “—just that they could make you feel so shitty when you’re so…” He gestured to her. 

“So what?”

His face flushed in anger. “You know, _you_.”

Blossom frowned. “I don’t understand—”

“You’re _you_. Class president, smart as fuck, you know, future Time Person of the Year type of shit—”

“That’s not—”

“—so beautiful and you know it. Hey, don’t make that innocent face. You’ve always known you’re gorgeous, you’re just too busy being nice to the morons in this city who couldn’t tie their goddamned shoes without whining for help to make a big deal out of it—”

Blossom matched his flush. “Just because people need my help sometimes doesn’t make them _morons_ —”

“—and it just pisses me the fuck off because you’re this force of nature who can make my psychotic brother eat a dick one minute—”

“Oh my _god_ —”

“—but then you fall apart because of what a bunch of obnoxious high school girls say to you drunk at a party? Jesus fucking Christ, Blossom.”

Blossom was so livid that she didn’t hesitate even a second to get in his face. “ _Don’t_ speak to me like that.”

Brick leaned down so close their noses nearly touched. “Like _what_?”

“Like you’re so above it all when you just admitted to me that you’re not.” Pink sparks materialized upon her skin as her temper flared to match his. How _dare_ he try to play her for a fool? He of all people knew better. 

Brick’s fingers on her cheek were the last thing she expected, and she recoiled with a gasp. Her power danced between his fingers, caught and mingling with his, and he made a slow fist one finger at a time. Blossom watched, mesmerized and unable to fathom why, but her eyes were blown wide and her lips parted. 

Brick’s gaze flickered from his fist back to her, and she bit her lip. He had never looked at her like that before, except… 

Except when she shoved Butch into the ground, exhausted and sore, and found Brick watching her like she was all that was worth looking at in this world. Shock and awe, she’d chalked it up to surprise at her actually beating Butch. Of course he’d underestimate her just like his brother, like everyone else. But no, that wasn’t right. This close to him, that heated look was unmistakable now. 

The moment passed like the sun dipping behind a cloud, and he pulled back. He slipped his hand back into his hoodie pocket and smiled in that subtle, diabolical way he’d perfected years ago. “Much better.”

Blossom swallowed hard. Had she… Had she imagined it? 

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but her stomach growled, excruciatingly loud to her Super hearing and his. 

Brick burst out laughing.

Mortified, Blossom blanched and covered her mouth and wished she could just disappear. “Oh my god,” she groaned. “I’m leaving.”

And she would have flown right out of there if he hadn’t grabbed her wrist. Still grinning, he tugged her back. “No, don’t leave.”

Blossom squeezed her eyes shut and wondered why the universe hated her so much. “We’re really done here.”

“Then let’s go somewhere else.”

The initial embarrassment faded, and she was left to wonder at his very odd choice of words. “What?”

“There’s a 1950s style diner I like a few blocks from here. I skipped breakfast too.”

He wasn’t laughing at her anymore as he waited on her acquiescence. 

His hand was fire around her wrist. For the first time that morning, she started to feel the chill. 

“All right,” she said. 

“All right.” He let her go and began to float. “This way.”

Logically speaking, the sun rises in the east, days turn to weeks, and nothing lasts forever. Not thunderstorms, not youth, and not even pain.

Especially not pain. 

Blossom sipped on the best vanilla milkshake she’d ever tasted as Brick rattled off dish after dish to the flabbergasted waitress who could not be blamed for not knowing the curse of Chemical X-induced inhumanly high metabolism. 

“Hey, Brick?”

Brick looked up from their feast of eggs and bacon and pancakes. “What?”

Logically speaking, he’d only called her gorgeous and smart and amazing because she was those things, objectively. But there was no such thing as the objectively perfect girlfriend.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

He flushed and played it off like it meant nothing. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

Logically speaking, nothing lasts forever, but they took their time anyway. What was the rush?

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of like this high school AU. Thought I was one-and-done but here we are. Maybe I'll write more here...
> 
> Y'all know the drill. Please feel free to leave kudos and comments on your way out! Thanks so much for reading.


End file.
